


Summer Rain

by heybeetlejuice



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, and Beatles, and if you like A Very Potter Musical too, and it is so confused, but if you like music, maybe you liked it too, so sooo long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heybeetlejuice/pseuds/heybeetlejuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not that it had anything to do with the way the light beat Horan, making your hair appear gold and blue eyes shine. Not that it had anything to do with the way Horan laughed at something stupid that Tomlinson had spoken and the sound seemed to go through the entire corridor and penetrate Harry. Not that it had anything to do with the way their eyes met as they passed one another, and Harry wished that everything was in slow motion. Not that it had anything to do with thewhispers and stares that followed amazed that they had crossed and have not insulted. It had nothing to see.</p>
<p>Harry did not like summer that much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is filled with music and books and citations, if you recognize any, congratulations and it’s no coincidence.
> 
> 'Hermione Can’t Draw' belong to StarKid. 'Here Comes the Sun' is the Beatles. And a phrase that appears in the fic was taken from 'Late Night Poem' by Margaret Atwood.
> 
> The fanfic does not follow an order of linear time. I think it’s cool, but perhaps the fanfic becomes a crap. 
> 
> (Posted on 1dslashweekly, with some minor error fixed. Not that this changes the fact that fanfic can be a shit, but I love this fanfic)
> 
> This is gigantic and confused and I seriously doubt that anyone will read to the end, but still, enjoy :)

Summer sucks.

Summer has never been the favorite season of Harry. It was a lot of sweat, sunburn and heat. They were crowded beaches and his father complaining that the electricity bill came too high because of the air-conditioned. It was the desire to eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and could not know that it is unhealthy and fattening.  _And you, Harry, wants to be like that?_

But he had to admit that the orange light of the setting sun coming through the windows of the hall that was pretty.

Not that it had anything to do with the way the light beat Horan, making your hair appear gold and blue eyes shine. Not that it had anything to do with the way Horan laughed at something stupid that Tomlinson had spoken and the sound seemed to go through the entire corridor and penetrate Harry. Not that it had anything to do with the way their eyes met as they passed one another, and Harry wished that everything was in slow motion.  _Not that it had anything to do_   _with the_ _whispers and stares that followed amazed that they had crossed and have not insulted._ It had nothing to see.

Harry did not like summer that much.

– x –

London was boring in the summer. Harry looked out the window and wondered for the millionth time why his mum and stepfather had decided to have a second honeymoon and did not take him. And Harry is not being ironic. Ok, just a little. But the fact is: the first time in his seventeen years of life, spend holidays in the city where he lives, and had no idea what to do for fun.

Also not had  _nobody_  to have fun. Your sister was somewhere he did not know where. And there were no real friends to do what friends do with friends in the summer. And if you understand this sentence, please explain to Harry, because he does not understand.

There were not many options.

Harry was alone.

 Alone and sad.

Very sad.

And maybe a little crazy.

Only this explains what happened that summer.

He sighed.

– x –

It was the second Monday since classes had started. The summer, in good part, over.  It was the last year and everyone was freaking out, students and teachers. In those two early Chemistry, Cowell was making life hell for some students - especially if these students were part of the building II School, or the rival team.

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Except that when Cowell began to ask questions that Horan could not answer , Harry shifted in his chair. When Niall lowered his head and muttered, “Sorry, sir, I do not know,” Harry began to swing his leg up and down really fast (Someone asks if he was okay. Payne raised his hand to answer all questions).

When Cowell called Niall of “idiot with no future, just like his father,” Harry got up and left.

– x –

The driver left him in a park, saying that Harry would enjoy (and Harry asked yourself if he was so destitute of friends as well as to advice the driver). The place was cute, but he was a Styles. Cute was not enough.

Harry looked around and started walking.

– x –

“Harry, Harry. Hey, Harry. Harry!”

“What?”

The same girl who asked if he was okay (and Harry does not know the name) seemed startled and shrank for a second, before raising a questioning eyebrow at the face of withering Harry.

“I just came to you over your backpack,” and handed the boy the bag type postman that was in his hands. Harry relaxed a little and got it, thanking with a lower  _thanks._  “And of course I would also like to know that whole scene was that? Leaving in the middle of class Cowell for nothing?” his brow was still there, still higher on the forehead of the girl (Harry knew her, okay, are not remembered her name), and it kind of irritated Harry even more.

Harry was now pissed.

“I do not see your account,” he said, calm and patient, almost as if there was exploding inside. The Girl gave him a shocked look, before you cram your nose. “Okay, whatever.” and walked away.

– x –

Okay, so maybe the place was more than cute, but just maybe. Children screaming and running to and fro were starting to give Harry a headache. He just wanted peace and quiet.

Arriving brilliant conclusion that would not have if they remained where he was, Harry up from the bench where he sat and walked over to a lake where he had passed earlier, almost at the park entrance.

Horan found there.

Alone, leaning against a tree, looking kind of sad lost somewhere.

It was perfect.

“Well, well, if not the holy Horan,” Harry said, walking toward the boy, a mocking grin taking over his face. Horan raised his head to look at it and let out a chuckle when he saw that it was Styles. “Where are your friends, Horan? You were left out and crush it somewhere, right?”

Horan was red and his eyes showed he was hurt, which made Harry smile even more. The blond-haired boy sighed.

 ”Back off, Styles, seriously. Not enough I have to hold you in high school, you have been chasing me in the holiday?” he sounded tired and not even deign to look at Harry when he said that. Harry would never admit to anyone that felt a little hurt.

“You know, I’m not surprised that his friends want to leave you, Horan. Everyone at some point leaves you -”

It was very fast. In a second Horan was five feet away, the other was his fist hitting Harry’s chin.

“Shut up, Styles,” he said, anger and tears shining in his blue eyes. Harry was too shocked to say anything, so he just sat there, holding his chin, looking Horan leave with eyes the size of saucers.

– x –

When lunchtime arrived, the whole school knew little show Harry’s dramatically out of Chemistry class for no reason. Eighty percent of the school hoped that Cowell the detention of the story for Harry, even though this would not happen.

Addressing the Great Hall, Harry  crossed with Horan again. He was alone this time, and looked at Harry as if to say  _I know your secret, Styles_.

– x –

The next day, Harry was back in the park, ready to meet Horan and make him pay.

He found him sitting in the same place, supported the same tree, looking at the same lake with the same face of jerk.

 ”Horan!”

The boy looked in the direction of the call, and seeing Harry advancing its own direction, sighed heavily, passing the hand through his hair messy.

“Look, Styles,” Horan kinda screamed, not wanting to wait for Harry to get too close to start talking. “I’m sorry for what I did yesterday. Scrotum was completely on his part to come here piss me off, but I should not have to hit. I am sorry. “

Harry paused, blinking confusedly. Horan had just apologize? Harry was not sure what to think.

Horan looked at him for a few seconds, then looked back at the lake again. Harry was still completely shocked, but managed to regain his posture, throat clearing his throat and say:

“He said to Mummy what you did yesterday and she sent you to apologize, was it?” asked, mocking, now recovered from the shock of hearing Horan apologized to him, something he thought would never happen.

Horan blushed, which confirmed the theory and Harry made a sneer on his face appears.

“Shut up, Styles.” Horan tried to look menacing, but it was so ridiculous, with cheeks as red as a tomato, Harry simply could not take it seriously (even though the memory of the punch was still fresh in your head).

“Niall, fighting with the school buddy, but that ugly thing!” Harry mocked in falsetto. “Tomorrow you will apologize to him or will be grounded, mister!”

Horan’s hands closed into fists on the side of the body, and he was more red than before when he rose from the ground. For a moment, Harry flinched and stepped back, thinking they would receive another blow, but just looked Horan, contempt overflowing blues eyes, turned his back and walked away.

In English class after lunch, Professor Paul  told her teacher wanted to talk to him as soon as class was over.

Harry sighed. He was so screwed.

– x –

He did not know why he was there, really. Or maybe he knew. That park had nothing interesting, sure, but disturbing Horan was their only form of entertainment available.

What was their surprise when they found him sitting in front of the lake looking stupid, or anywhere else in the park.

Shrugging, Harry called the driver and became convinced that no, that feeling in the pit of his stomach was not disappointed.

– x –

Harry took a deep breath before knocking twice on the door of the office of Cowell.  The voice low and calm your teacher tell you to go, and Harry did, faced with the chemistry teacher sitting behind his desk, pen in hand and what looked like evidence before him.  For a moment he did not believe that any group had been testing the second week of class, but then remembered that was Cowell.

“Sit down, Harry,” Severus said, never taking his eyes from the paper which analyzed. Harry walked to the chair across the table and sat, waiting.

Five minutes later, which were filled only by the sound of the scratching of pen on paper Cowell (Harry stopped watching him correcting the proofs after the quarter that saw zero Cowell write, deciding eyes wander around the office, even though nothing has changed since the last time he’d been there), the man raised his head and rested his eyes on Harry. The boy, feeling the gaze of Cowell on him, turned to face him. Managed to sustain its frown for five seconds before lowering the iris gray at his hands. The look of Cowell was powerful just behind the lens of thin-rimmed glasses.

“I’m waiting,”

Simple as that. Calm and controlled, as if he was not mad that Harry had left in the middle of his class out of nowhere. And maybe he was not the same. Harry knew his teacher, and knew that Cowell would give a sermon without end if he were angry, but apparently he just wanted to know the reason for his rebellion.

_So, yes_ , Harry thought, sighing,  _he will be furious with me._

– x –

Ended up going to the mall, simply because there was nothing else to do and did not want to go home alone with the employees. He decided to go to the movies, as much as going to the movies alone was something depressing.

When Harry was heading the queue to buy your ticket, his eyes met three well-known figures: Payne, Tomlinson and Horan.

He smiled, thinking of going to mock them (something to do with Tomlinson having to go without food a week to pay the ticket or Payne having a social life), but the way Horan changed the weight from one foot to the other stopped him. He looked uncomfortable, as if they’d rather be anywhere but there. Payne and Tomlinson discussing something, which apparently would watch film, and asked the opinion of Horan and tried to include him in conversation, but he just shook his head negatively or positively.

Harry’s expression softened, but then he frowned at the way her stomach lurched when Horan smiled, and thanked God that no one known was there to see it.

– x –

“I was not feeling very well, sir,”

It was a complete lie. Harry felt really uncomfortable and angry when Cowell began to ask questions of Horan. And anyway, Luke (you do not know) would go to England football before Harry talk to his teacher the real reason he had left in his class.

Harry felt his eyes Cowell scanning her face for several minutes. He did his best to look innocent and not to show how uncomfortable he was. He took a sigh of relief when Cowell finally said “Okay. I hope you’re better now. But next time, I ask permission before leaving the room, Harry, or I’ll have to give you a detention.”

He shakes his head says “Yes, sir,” and Cowell dismisses him .

– x –

They end up deciding to see Avatar, so that Harry can hear, not see, what is a good thing. He buys a ticket pro same movie and winds up in a bookstore ten minutes after the session has already begun.

When he enters the dark room, it takes a minute to find Horan and his friends, but finds them sitting in the middle of one of the highest ranks. None of them pays attention to Harry when he sits behind Payne, luckily the only empty seat in the crowded theater.

Tomlinson is one arm around the shoulders of Payne, which nestles in it. Harry has an acid comment on the tip of the tongue, but hold it. Horan moves uncomfortably across from Payne.

That’s all they do throughout the movie. Tomlinson and Payne did not begin to knead (Harry thank God for that, it would be too much for your precious eyes), and Harry did not expect them to do so, then he does not understand why Horan did not seem to want to be with friends. He understood that Horan should find what was bothering the couple, but the other two clearly wanted there. The idiot was just too dumb to realize.

Before the movie ends, Harry left the theater and went home.

– x –

Harry arrived ten minutes late in the Arts class, but Professor Burbage said nothing. Probably knew he was Professor Cowell. He sat in front of the easel and not heard him talking about Monet and impressionism and any other crap. When she asks them to paint their frames, it takes the form of  _a boy with blond hair rebels and blue-kaleidoscope eyes_.

– x –

The sun burned Harry’s head while he was heading to the lake in the park, sketchbook and carrying case in hand. It had been three days since he never left the house just because of laziness, but Harry eventually tired of the internet and TV and draw the garden of the mansion and decided to go to the park to draw a different landscape.

(Not for a second went through his head that he wanted to draw Horan in a different landscape)

It is clear that God does not go much with the face of Harry and decides to annoy him as a leprechaun sitting right in front of the lake, against the same tree as the other two times he had found there.

Harry sits three trees away and says nothing. He leafs through the book until you find your last drawing (John, the butler in the kitchen talking to Isis, as she moved into a pot on the stove) and turn the page, making a pencil case and then beginning to sketch the contours of the lake.

It draws the same time that the eyes feel of Horan on itself. Probably the idiot guy was surprised, first by Harry not having spoken to him (no insult, actually), then Harry be drawing. Probably he was frowning, his mouth slightly open and blue eyes curious, suspicious and shocked all at the same time. Not that Harry spent much time watching the expressions of Horan or something, because he has more important things to do.

He has no time to spend fantasizing about Niall Horan.

– x –

On Tuesday, shortly after school foreign language (French, in Harry’s case, just because he was offered his choice of), Harry sneaks into the music room on the third floor. Looking through the small window in the door, he sees that Horan is on the inside as well as Professor Flitwick and some students without importance.

Everyone is playing their instruments, loud and disorganized, but they stop when Horan positions the violin and starts playing. Harry closes his eyes and just listen, leaning on the back door, and when the music ends and people in the room begin to applaud, he goes to his dorm room with a heart heavier than before.

– x –

Horan speaks to him only the third straight day in which Harry goes to the park, just when he’s finished with the design of the lake (it has about two hundred trees around, not easy to draw), so Harry is grateful, because it totally Horan lost the focus began to talk to him in the middle of the drawing.

“I… did not know you drew, Styles,” Horan says, careful and hesitant, as if I was not sure what I should do this, but at the same time curious. Harry sniffs and scratches a last dash in the design, lowering the pencil to look at your masterpiece.

“And I did not know you could see it, Horan”

Horan ignores the question and carefully, but unable to hide his curiosity in his voice. “I can see?”

Harry’s eyes widen and he looks at the other boy, taken aback by the question. He believes Horan for a few seconds, then look at the drawing on his lap, then back to Horan – the expression hopeful and curious, ridiculously blue eyes shining, the stupid hair pointing in all directions (Harry’s heart gives a leap through his chest, damn leprechaun) – and decides that, well, why not?

He shrugs and stretches the notebook to Horan.

A smile appears on the boy’s face as he rises and approaches Harry. When he takes the notebook of Harry’s hands, their fingers touching briefly, Harry holds his breath for a second. Horan also holds its breath and make a sound shocked, staring with curious eyes the drawing.

“Wow,” he says. “This here is very good.” and, without asking permission or anything, as if the book was his, Horan begins to turn pages and see the other drawings there (“Hi, Horan!” Harry says, only to be completely ignored). The leprechaun smiles for most designs, frowns and even for some other ir (Harry suspected to be those with Zayn or any of his other friends doing stupid guys). When he finished, he closes the book and returns it to Harry, smiling serenely at him.

“You’re pretty good, Styles. Liam told me you were in class with her extra gear, but I had never seen any of his designs - well, maybe, with that exposure that the school has the work of students every year but did not know it was yours. “

Harry did not blush with it (seriously, he did not blush, red in his cheeks is just a mild stroke) and what comes out of his mouth is not totally a stammering “Um, ah, um … yeah, I know” .

Horan continues to smile at him (Horan never smiled at him, Harry notices; laughed at him and smiled mockingly when something embarrassing happened to Harry, yes, but never smiled at him) and Harry felt his stomach make a knot, then it raises, holding the pencil in the box and says “I gotta go,” and he is far from there before Horan can blink.

– x –

The first visit to the nearby town happens the first Saturday of October. Students last year were already swamped with duties and knew the town as the palms of your hands, then most of them took the tables at the library Saturday.

Harry sat down with Zayn, The Girl (sorry, he does not know her name) and Theo trying to study mathematics and biology (Mrs. Marie and Mr. Jones had no mercy shown to work in the past), but kind of hard thinking, with Theo and The Girl gossiping like two old. Zayn was also trying to do their homework and sent the other two were silent mouth every two minutes, which only served to increase the noise when the three began to argue. The librarian had already threatened to expel them from the library twice.

Grunting in frustration (the  _x_  its function still giving 75, but the feedback was that the answer was 24), Harry got up and decided to move away from some friends, going to sit close to other students who were quiet and concentrated.

Students even looked up from their books and notebooks when Harry sat on the table edge they held. Thanking mentally, Harry reopened the math notebook and flipped through his notes on some formula that might help you solve the damn function, only to stop when he heard voices.

“Liam, help us do this here?”

Harry froze, his voice high-sounding Horan in the silence of the library. He looked back, where there was a bookcase, and the space of one or two missing books on a shelf, he could see their hair full of Payne back to him, Tomlinson and Horan seated in front of him.

“You know my language is Portuguese, Niall, not Spanish,” she said, as if explaining to a child of five years, something that had already repeated several times.

“Yeah, but it’s similar, is not it? And you speak a little Spanish I know, Liam, come on, help us here,” Tomlinson said, casting a smile to her boyfriend. Harry looked as disgusted (not that he was homophobic. But, by God, the couple was Tomlinson and Payne! And that says it all). Payne sighed, and began to explain how it combines the first conjugation verbs in the past tense. Horan asked questions (Harry could not concentrate), and when he started speaking in Spanish, slowly and softly, Harry’s blood boiled.

He returned to the table he shared with friends and dropped their stuff on it heavily, sitting by the side of Zayn with the ruddy face and breathing irregular means. The Girl, Zayn and Theo were still discussing in low voices.

– x –

When he comes home, Harry ignores John was wondering how your ride and if he wants something, and go straight to the bedroom to the closet for the last drawer right over the background, and her bottom fishing for a book drawing old and wrinkled, the blue cover has faded through a long handle.

He spends the rest of the afternoon looking at the pages full of drawings of a single person, tracing the line of the jaw Horan with your fingers and wishing he could paint the eyes of Nialls drawn, but he had tried many times before and no blue seemed the right tone. That night, Harry dreams of extending his hands drawn to him and a rose-lipped smile and teeth a little crooked.

                – x –

The first football game of the season is between the dorm II, the Hawks, and dorm III, the Lions, in the middle of November. It’s cold and windy, which makes the game. Harry would know, being captain of the team dorm I, the Tigers, having coached the team into the night just two days ago. They had all left the field hitting their chins and their faces red from the cold, but it was a good workout, and the entire team agreed that they had improved considerably.

The whole school seems to be in the stands, the Hawks and the Lions the most animated of all, to analyze the Eagles and the Tigers to make fun of whoever lost (both made in this case, because the Hawks deserved to be taken out fun breathe only, a _nd Lions were Lions_ ).

When players enter the field, Harry’s heart failure means that a hit when he sees Horan, all red and gold uniform, captain’s armband on his arm. The game starts and it’s weird when the Lions attack mercilessly, leaving everyone so surprised that hardly Tomlinson argues that Zachary kicks the ball. The narrator is talking more about the strange things about the Lion being under the influence of a spirit than narrating, but Harry is not paying attention to him. He only has eyes for Horan, and when the boy steals the ball from one of the Lions brand and Harry smiled fondly at him while Zayn and Theo groan at his side.

Amid the celebration, to be embraced and received pats on the back of all time, Horan’s eyes roam the stands and find Harry. He smiled, and Harry almost expect him to raise his arm and point to Harry, he dedicated the goal. Horan does not, Harry just stares for a few seconds, smiling a little sad.

 Hawk wins from four to one.

– x –

Not that he is avoiding Horan or something ridiculous like that, it’s just that this park is pretty big and, well, he drew that lake, then naturally it would draw the rest of the place.

He is sitting on a bench drawing a bunch of kids (which is difficult, the brats can not stay still for more than five seconds) four days after showing his drawing Horan, when it sits next to her and smiles almost gently.

“I found you,” says Horan, easy, as if they were friends ever since. “You were not over the lake.”

Harry did not turns to face Horan or stops the pencil on the sheet, her eyes going from notebook to the field where children are playing frisbee at regular intervals. He thinks he has a bit of disappointment in the voice of Horan, but mentally shrugs and assumes it’s just imagination, and says “I drew the lake, Horan, why would I want to continue to go there?”

He looks briefly at the corner of his eye Horan, sees the boy opened his mouth angrily, only to close it a second later. Harry arches an eyebrow, but around the eyes forward and continues to draw.

Horan conversation with him all afternoon, as if they were not sworn enemies, and Horan had not punched him just two weeks ago. Harry concentrated on drawing (damn kids, stay quiet for a minute, I want to finish my drawing shit), just shakes her head and says “You” or “Right” or “Hmm, alright, alright.” At four o’clock, he scratches his right eye with the back of the hand holding the pencil, Harry Styles signs carefully in the corner of the paper and date 05.29.2012.

Horan smiles at him and extends his hand. Harry arches an eyebrow, What makes you think I would see my drawing, Horan? the tip of the tongue, but he ends up delivering the contract and passes to the other.

– x –

His house has a light but nicely decorated for Christmas, the way Harry’s mother and father love is beautiful to find his wife. Harry sits beneath the huge tree, amid a sea of gifts, opening them as a child. Armchairs in front of the fireplace, his parents and his sister laugh at him while sipping tea. Harry does not care, because they just opened a package from his aunt containing a collection of books he had been wanting for months.

(How could you know that the woman is a mystery. She never fails to send him gifts every year at Christmas and on his birthday, and Harry’s pretty sure his mother sends gifts to her cousins as well)

After dinner, Harry lay on the couch, resting her head on her mother’s lap, who runs his fingers through his hair in a caress hot. His stepfather is sitting in an armchair in front and the radio is on, but they are talking and laughing, not paying much attention to the unit. Harry is almost asleep in the lap of a song when Anne stands in the middle of Christmas songs, the voice of George Harrison singing  _Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter_  cradling him to sleep.

– x –

Two weeks later, Harry has no idea what happened to the rivalry of them seriously, at least for part of Horan. Almost every day, the boy somehow manages to find Harry in the park and sit beside him while he draws, most of the time chatting about things that Harry listens half, focused on his drawings (but Harry pays attention enough to notice when the tone of voice changes Horan and he begins to talk about serious things, sometimes taking Harry greater than monosyllabic responses), but sometimes, Horan just sit beside you and watch draw, attentive eyes following every movement of the Harry’s hand, watching with something in blue iris that Harry was not sure what it was.

Some days Horan does not appear, not because it could not find it or something, but because he had an appointment with Tomlinson and Payne.

Horan talks about video and computer games, some ridiculous movie he saw on television the night before or the novels as his mother watches were meaningless. He talks about football and school, some teachers complaining about (“Cowell is a miserable bastard, never got over the fact that my father had implicated him in school and -” “Horan” Harry says, cutting the rabid speech and elated about his favorite teacher. “Oh yes, sorry,” Horan has the decency to blush and look really embarrassed. For a second, Harry wants to leave the design and kiss Horan) and praising others (“Paul is the best teacher anyone could have, really, it’s just amazing.” Harry raises an eyebrow and says nothing). He talks about the relationship of their parents, how they love and that one day he wants it for himself (Harry just shakes her head when Horan says that he agrees). He talks about friendship with Paul and his father and how he hopes that the friendship he has with Tomlinson and Payne last forever too. He talks about how he feels uncomfortable being with Louis and Liam, as if he was intruding, and how he feared being left out (“Horan if they do not want you around, they do not call you to go to the movies or there the Hawks what you do. If you keep thinking like that, will end up pushing them away and die a bitter old man with no friends “is what Harry said when he mentioned that Horan. Horan looked at what Harry likes to think (want, hopefully) that has been affection. the next day he appeared, and Harry was left alone to draw trees). He talks about the future, about the longing that will feel the school, about the fear of disappointing the people he loves or make wrong choices. He speaks and Harry just listens, sometimes responding, sometimes finding it better to remain silent. In the end, Horan will just smile at him as if Harry was the best thing to have happened in the history of the universe.

(Harry does not know exactly why, reason or circumstance Horan’s telling these things to him, Harry was sure things had not told Horan nor Tomlinson and Payne, but he is happy to hear.

He hopes not only be raising expectations too, because they ultimately end up that Horan was just talking to him because he was lonely without friends on vacation, Harry would definitely heartbroken)

– x –

On Thursday January, Harry goes to the third floor just as the music class is ending. He hides behind an armor to prevent students and the teacher, not that any of them has anything to do with what he does, but he is not in order to face Horan, Horan know why.

But Horan is not among the students who leave, and then all go away and running to be desert, Harry hears music coming from the classroom. Slowly, he leaves behind the armor and sneaks up there, looking out the window in the door that is Horan, sitting in a chair with his guitar on his lap, a table at the front and an open notebook on top of it, where Horan occasionally wrote or scratched things.

Horan was writing a song.

Harry watched mesmerized Horan strumming the guitar, writing in their notebooks, scratch something, not necessarily in that order. He stood there for hours until the sun begins to set and get your tummy rumbling, and dinner would probably be served in an hour or two, but he did not call, not until Horan stretch your arms above your head and join hands , stretching, then moving to the guitar store on the cover.

Harry hid behind the same armor and waited Horan move with bated breath to see it move away, until the boy turned into a corridor and was no longer visible. Without knowing why, Harry left his hiding place and entered the music room.

He closed the door carefully behind him, leaning on it and watching the room is illuminated by the faint rays of the setting sun entering the large window. It was warm and comfortable there, unlike the corridors of the castle, they were as cold as outside. There were all kinds of instruments around the place, and a grand piano resting near the window.

Leafing through the room, Harry saw the chair on which sat Horan and table –

Harry came over and looked at the notebook with a football player on the cover, wondering how Horan was stupid enough to forget that there is something in front all the time and we should look at what was inside. Decided it should, it was just because Horan had seen his drawings at all. He opened his notebook and tried to find the mess of chords and words scratched and scratched and added other time, but once he did, Harry was delighted. The lyrics were great. The verses were beautiful and the language used in a way so unique that Harry’s heart ached.

He began to consider that perhaps Paul was the favorite teacher of Horan not only for being one of the best friends of his father, and perhaps Horan was the favorite student of Paul not only for being the son of one of his best friends.

All his thoughts on Paul disappeared when Harry arrived in the last song. He held his breath and read the title,  _Summer Rain_ , skimming the sentences, which freaking heart, beating so hard and uncontrollably that it was as if he wanted to break Harry’s chest and leave. The song was about a summer love that could not be lived later, and about what we both want to arrive to hurt. It was sad and beautiful and the most fantastic thing Harry had ever read.

When Harry left the music room, a stomach full of butterflies and sweaty hands, a sentence of the last song in the contract Horan (he left in the same place and same position as found) was fixed in his head.

_Screw poetry, it’s_ you _I want._

– x –

On Friday the second week of August, they are sitting on the floor in the middle of a mini-forest within the park, the back against a tree, the shoulder comfortably Horan playing Harry’s shoulder. Horan is babbling something, the low light of the setting sun could pass through the canopy of trees close together just enough to draw and Harry can tell by the profile of Horan corner of the eyes, mouth moving furiously and incessantly.

“… Paul then threw me down and I was all covered in mud and he stood there laughing at me, and know what my father did? He laughed at me too! My own father, Styles, who carried me in his arms when I was little and taught me to play football. I felt betrayed, I confess, but then -”

Horan stops talking and frowns, which makes Harry stopped for a moment, frowning too, wondering why Horan was silent so suddenly. But then the answer comes in the form of a drop of rain falling in the notebook of Harry, leaving a large wet marks round the drawing he was doing.

“Shit,” Harry swears, and while doing so, two more drops fall on your drawing, and one in her hair. He closes the book quickly, putting it under her blouse. Beside him, Horan takes the pencil from his hand and puts it in a holster lying on the ground, rising quickly and screaming for Harry to do the same.

When they leave the set of trees, the rain falls heavy on their heads, drenching them to the bone in seconds. The thick raindrops reach everywhere, and they run toward the gate of the park.

Harry is about to reach the phone in the back pocket of his pants and send the driver to come pick it up immediately with his eyes while looking for somewhere to shelter when Horan takes his hand.

Horan’s hand is big and soft, wet and bigger than Harry, and it just fits. Harry looks at his hands together for a second while still running on automatic, Horan pulling it wherever.

He looks up into the face of Horan, Horan while frowning just smiles and continues to drag him by the hand.

– x –

In mid-February, the day of the game against the Tiger Eagle, Horan sees Harry in the stands, smiling at him and quietly celebrating every time the team mark of snakes.

Tiger wins from four to three in the shootout.

– x –

When Horan closed the door behind them, both are breathing heavily, exhausted by the race and wetter than ever. The house is dark and quiet, and Harry can distinguish two forms of sofas, a TV and some other furniture, and a ladder in one corner and a runner at the bottom of the room, which probably led to a kitchen. The place smelled of lilies and was four blocks away from the park. Horan screams “Mother? Father?”, But no one answers.

They are still holding hands.

– x –

Suddenly it’s May, the tests are less than a month away and the final match between Hawk and the Tigers Cup Football is about to begin. Madame Hooch, the judge, tells Harry Horan and shake hands, and being so close to Horan after all this time and it makes playing a shiver up the spine of Harry. Horan shakes your hand gently, quite different from the way he almost crushed his hand in the departure of the previous year, looking into his eyes with a smile (not the leering of the previous year, reflecting what Harry had on his face).

The match starts and give it all you Harry, shouting orders for your team and making it possible to maintain possession. You do not have girls on the team of Tiger, but has in the Hawk, because Hogwarts allows mixed teams, but they will not go easy on the girls, because they certainly do not take lightly with them.

The girl Tomlinson passes the ball to Horan and he steps forward to the goal, but Harry is rapidly bunching with him, trying to steal the ball from Horan, their sweaty bodies rubbing and Harry has to use all his willpower not to grab it right there and concentrate on the game.

The Tigers team plays well, extraordinarily well, but the Hawk team is better.

They lose three to one.

– x –

Harry is stuck in the middle of the room, looking around uncomfortably, shifting weight from one foot to the other. Horan had left him there and dropped back to the room to call their parents, saying that Harry will stay and not make the ceremony. The walls are light blue, but were almost impossible to see because of the huge amount of posters and pictures that had them. There was a large window in the wall in front of Harry, with a single bed underneath and leaning against the wall, the white curtains almost touching the water. There was a wad of blankets and pillows and what Harry thought was laundry on the bed. On the wall to the right, a table (light brown, this, the only furniture in the room who was not white - but the contrast was not ugly. The contrary) with a plethora of books, notebooks, magazines, comic books, the kit Harry, who had played there Horan, a camera and a laptop on top. There were drawers of the long legs of the table, and Harry Horan had asked how many widgets. A chair was stuck anyway in the gap between the table legs. Near the left wall, in their holders, were a guitar, a guitar and - Harry’s breath was lost somewhere between his lungs and his trachea - a violin. There was a shelf of scores and scores on the ground near the instruments, as well as an amplifier over the corner and some wires.

Harry just stared at it all, his eyes lingering on the violin for a while. He knew that Horan played, had known since his first week at school when a teacher overheard talking about the extra classes Horan music. Harry just had never heard him play. The guitar yes, because Horan was a show and was always showing the gardens with friends from school, and the guitar too, once, when Horan and his friends formed a band ridiculous pro talent show two years ago.

(But it was not for lack of opportunities. Music lessons were on Tuesdays and Thursdays, while the arts were Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. But, when Harry saw the way the music room at the times that he knew Horan would be there, he thought better and decided that no, it probably would only make things worse. And the recitals, performances of music, he always found a way to escape and no one asked why, then everything was fine)

Sighing, Harry approached the wall where the instruments were. There was a poster of the Beatles and one of Arsenal Football Club, but it was not that interested Harry. Carefully, he examined the photos pasted to the wall - were all friends or relatives Horan. Horan appeared in some, but few, and Harry assumed it was who took the photos - Payne Tomlinson and smiling and waving over their shoulders, the feet immersed in the lake of the school uniform pants in the boy’s bent knee; Tomlinson, Payne, and Thomas Jones in the room laughing at the Hawk, all in the same bed, apparently the other three boys doing mound in Jones, Eleanor Calder, CharlotteTomlinson, Jones, Payne and Tomlinson smiling and waving, each dressed in his strange way, in what appeared to be a party, colorful balloons and ribbons on the wall behind them, almost the same picture as before, with the addition of Horan, smiling as Harry had never seen before; Tomlinson and Horan doing some kind of arm wrestling, suffering faces, Payne laughing in the background, several people around a fireplace, a Christmas tree in the corner, present papers mirrored the floor, a few aggregates, including Horan, with its brother, an arm around the shoulders of Horan, as he held him by the waist, the parents of professor Paul Horan and laughing in the living room; Maura Horan in the kitchen, dirty hands of cream and blowing a kiss at the camera; Horan father and Professor Paul playing football; Horan and Payne embraced; Horan and Tomlinson a side by side, smiling carelessly; Calder and the girl Tomlinson playing with a dog; Calder glasses reading a magazine, Greg Horan tending a garden and the old Hawk football team, and Horan thirteen years; Maura Horan carrying a large white cake with candles forming the number 17 above; Horan blowing the candle, his father of one of its sides and the mother of another, cheering people back (Harry could make out her hair brown Tomlinson) and Payne and Tomlinson and the girl Tomlinson in a swimming pool, smiling Tomlinson in mid-air ready to fall into the pool, Payne holding in her lap, the boy clung to his neck with the closed and mouth open, Harry did not know whether to laugh or terror –

“My parents went to see a play there in the theater, I had completely forgotten that they were going to do it. My mother said he had no problem getting you here, to ask if you want to take a shower and give you dry clothes and food and …”

 Horan continued talking, entering the room and opening the closet, barely noticing Harry, who had stopped to look at the pictures and saw the back of Horan. Harry thought of as the photos of Horan, who was the same in front of him now, was different from Horan with whom he fought. He realized that finally, after seven years, knew the true Horan, who always watched and loved, and conducting the heat is spread through your chest to your stomach.

“I think this will serve you, Styles” Horan said and turned to face Harry, holding a change of clothes folded. He frowned slightly and looked at Harry’s stomach. “Your notebook wet?”

Just then Harry remembered the sketchbook still under his shirt, stuck in the waistband of his jeans. He thought shit and took the object from there, confirming their fears to see that, yes, the contract was wet. Harry carefully opened it and leafed through the pages stuck together and almost threadbare. There was a total disaster, only the tips of the book were wet, and most of the drawings was untouched. Some, like the drawing of John and Isis, however, had become just a blur beyond recognition. Harry sighed angrily.

“It’s ruined,” he said, walking to the table Horan and putting the book there, on top of a book called Harriet and the Prisoner of Axsazan Horan. Horan came up, glanced at the cover of the book and smiled.

“Not so bad, Harry. Just let it dry. Here, the bathroom is down the hall,” Horan pushed a change of clothes in the arms of Harry, talking fast and not looking in the other’s face, the cheeks slightly red. “if you want to take a shower, the towels are under the sink. I’ll do something for us to eat” and went like a thunderbolt, down the stairs noisily.

Harry was stopped one minute in the same place, Horan’s clothes in her arms, taking in the fact that Horan had called him by first name and became embarrassed. He laughed slightly, getting a smile on his face when the laughter died and left the room, going to the bathroom.

– x –

Three quarters of the stands are going crazy, since the only ones rooting for the Tigers were the Tigers. The Hawk team is crazy, hugging and dancing on the lawn, while the team of Tigers breathes heavily with faces of sadness, anger or disappointment. Harry feels the three at the same time, because that is his last year at Hogwarts, his last chance to win the Cup as captain and he failed, but Harry can not feel really angry, not with Horan smiling like that.

When the director appears in the field carrying the cup and passes it to Horan, who stands in the air amid cheers and cries, the boy looks at him, smiling the most beautiful smile in the world, without the slightest trace of mockery in it, as if ‘d say hey, Harry, you played very well, I bet you’ll beat me next time. But there would be a next time, not for them two.

Sighing, Harry turned to meet the team and send everyone to the locker room, but stopped with his mouth open, ready to talk but does not emit any sound when he saw Warrington marching toward the Hawk team.

 He could not hear what the boy was talking with the beefy sound of celebration, but the faces of the Hawks players, good thing it was not. Harry walked up there, seeing that Tomlinson’s ears were red with anger or shame, and Horan was guy who had eaten a sour lemon.

“Warrington, what a mess you’re packing there? Let’s go!” Harry shouted when he came close, but Warrington ignored. Harry snorted and tried to pull him by the arm, but the boy broke free from his grasp with a “Let go of me, Styles” and continued talking, taunting Horan.

Harry’s blood began to boil as Warrington was talking, talking, talking, and when he said “… his mother, Horan, that bitch,” was the last straw.

Horan pushed the trophy in the hands Louis Tomlinson and was ready to jump in Warrington, but Harry was faster. He walked in front of Horan and got punched in the face of the teammate.

– x –

Harry was back in the room Horan, having decided not to shower, change clothes only. The blouse was wide Horan, yellow and smooth, the sleeve coming up to half of Harry’s arm and collar expando part of your chest. The pants gray sweatshirt was also large. Both pieces were very comfortable and wrinkled, typical for sleep. It smelled of mint and chocolate and Horan.

Harry threw the wet clothes on the bed of another, picked up the phone and dialed the home number. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to fix the locks, which were a mess because of the towel that Harry had gone to dry.

John answered the phone and sounded relieved and desperate at the same time as Harry said, wondering if he was okay, where it was needed and that the driver was picking you up. Harry said yes, in a friend’s house (the word had a strange taste in your mouth when used to refer to Horan) and no, not now, when I turn the rain to pass again. John looked worried, but agreed anyway, then off. Harry put the phone on the table next to the case of Horan and then went to the violin, taking the instrument and bow. Positioned on the shoulder and the bow went lightly on the strings, the sound sounded strange in his ears.

Harry frowned, trying to remember the things that his mother told him when he was eight. He positioned his fingers and passed the bow on the strings again, the sound coming more clear and less like a cat scratching paws on a blackboard.

“Do you play?” Horan’s voice asked cheerfully, and Harry turned to see him coming into the room holding a tray with two mugs and some sandwiches.

“Very little. My mother tried to teach me, she is an excellent violinist, but I never had much interest.” said, watching Horan put the tray on the bed, then take a stack of magazines off the table and put in the chair, and then take the tray again and put it in the free space on the table. “But I play the piano” added Harry, just talking the talk.

Horan smiled at him as he picked up the cake of blankets on the bed - Harry’s clothes in the middle - and played on the floor in the corner between the bed and desk. He took the two and threw a pillow on each side of the bed. “Your mum taught you well?”

“Yeah.” Horan continued to smile at him and Harry, the racing heart and chest warm, extended his arms stupidly, violin bow in one hand and on the other.

“Touch me”                                    

Horan raised an eyebrow. Harry blushed, almost repented of having used his authoritative tone, but left on automatic. But Horan smiled and took the instrument from the hands of Harry, his fingers touching the boy and the other remaining there a second longer than necessary, which made Harry breathed and tremble.

He went to bed, taking a mug from the tray on the way, sitting with their backs against the wall, his head touching the window. Harry took a sip of that found to be the best hot chocolate that had already taken and observed through the lashes while Horan positioned the violin. The rain continued to fall, hitting the roof and window, the thick drops noisily to collide with the ground outside. The room smelled of rain and chocolate and Horan, Horan, Horan, who began to pass the bow across the strings, making them a beautiful melody and a little sad. His left hand was moving over the strings with grace, her cheek resting on the violin as if it were a pillow, black hair contrasting with the dark brown of the instrument, Horan’s eyes closed, face relaxed.

It was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen.

Harry’s breath caught in her throat and her heart started beating so fast, his chest so hot, he thought it would explode. Horan’s hand, God, walking on the strings as if it belonged there, it was beautiful, but she must belong to Harry, Harry. Horan’s face, that little smile on his lips, as if everything was right with the world, Harry was about to get up and kiss him. Harry’s skin felt prickly him to do something and he held the cup in his hands tightly, gripping it as if your life depended on it. Horan’s eyes closed, and all Harry could think of was  _open them, open them, Niall Niall Niall, open them, love I want –_

_you._

_I want you like I never wanted anything in life, Niall, love, my heart goes boom, please please please…_

Horan continued to play, ignorant mental appeals to Harry, and Harry that he caused the music that seemed to talk about an impossible love and lost echoing in the room. When Horan finished playing, the last long note and getting in the air, he opened his eyes (finally, finally, finally) and smiled at Harry, his smile bright and beautiful and loving that Harry had ever seen.

They were silent for a few minutes, just the sound of rain outside and the last note acoando still in the air, only staring, eyes Horan coursing throughout Harry’s face, until the phone started ringing downstairs.

Horan gave a last look before leaving the room, taking violin and everything. Harry drank hot chocolate and swallowed hard.

– x –

To say that the whole school had been shocked was little. All they kept talking about the punch that had given Styles in Warrington, and was already a week. The Tigers looked the stranger, as if he were a traitor or something, and Warrington had sworn revenge. Only Zayn, Theo and The Girl answers, but had just given her shoulders and let it go. Students from other houses looked with curiosity, wondering what all could have taken Styles hit a teammate.

But Harry did not regret because Warrington was a bastard and had deserved, even though the lack of Harry as a result had had endless questions and a sermon by Cowell and a Saturday (which he could enjoy the city, drinking beer or eating) of detention helping the teacher Robin with the school garden.

When Harry turned pro castle, controlling for not cleaning their hands dirty dirt on clothing, Horan found waiting for him in the Hall of Entry. He came to Harry gave him a hug and breathed into his ear, leaving soon after.

Harry stood there, shocked, heart racing and skin burning everywhere Horan’s body had pressed against his.

– x –

Harry watched through half-closed eyes, Horan seated on the floor, guitar in lap, tuning the strings. He had begun to feel sleepy after finishing his cup of hot chocolate and was now lying on the bed, his head resting comfortably on the pillow, slowly sinking into sleep.

He opened and closed his eyes a few times, almost asleep, and asked with a voice low and groggy “Horan, you drugged me or something?”

The last thing Harry heard before falling asleep with a smile on his face was a pleasant laugh, guitar chords and singing voice Horan Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter…

– x –

In the first week of June, the penultimate before exams, Harry and his friends sat in the castle garden. The day was sunny and warm early summer, and they had decided to study outside of the library instead, settling in the shade of a tree and opening books and notebooks in front of them.

Zain was doing the questions of the last Harry history questionnaire when they were distracted by various laughter, loud and sharp. Looking toward the lake, and Horan Harry saw that his friends (the girl embraced Tomlinson and Thomas, Calder and Payne next to each other and on the other side of Horan, Tomlinson and Jones) were there at the margin, Horan playing guitar and group singing something like  _Liam can’t draw, Liam can’t draw, Liam cannot draw. She only reads books and she cannot draw, even if she’s reading a how to draw book_ , which made the boy smile, because he totally could draw (Harry had seen some of their work in art class, and however he did not like to admit they were good). Zayn music quietly laughed, saying “They should receive a detention for being so noisy”.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Professor Paul left the castle and went toward the group on the lakeshore. Tomlinson shouted “Paul!” enthusiastically received and all the teacher with warm smiles as he approached. The man said something to them, to which everyone laughed, and turned to leave. As returned to the school, the group began to sing _Paul can not sing, can not sing Paul, Paul can not sing. He only reads books and he can not sing, even if he’s reading a book how to sing._ The teacher just threw his head back in a nice laugh, then swinging it and going to school.

See Horan that way, happy and surrounded by friends, made Harry’s heart tighten and hurt, because he could have been there had he not chosen to pretend that nothing happened between them during the holidays.

– x –

When Harry woke up, he opened his eyes immediately. He was so comfortable, that soft mattress, pillow nice and warm blanket. He moved a little, snuggling up more on himself, smiling as his brain slowly remembered where he was and why he was there.

He opened his eyes and blinked several times, giving a guy with Payne, Calder, the girl Tomlinson and Maura Horan neat and smiling at him. He frowned and wrinkled his nose at the picture, turning under the covers and then facing the cabinet Horan and his instruments.

“Hey, Harry, you woke up. Good morning,” he heard a voice speaking somewhere near his feet and looked over there, seeing Horan seated in the chair across the table, smiling, open the laptop and turned to face him.

Harry said a  _hmmfhfm_ and sat on the bed, the blanket falling into his lap, one hand on the mattress support and the other rubbing his eyes. The sun passed through the curtains open and struck him on the head, and Horan was looking at him as if he had never seen anything more beautiful.

Harry yawned and stretched, straightened her hair as best he could and raised an eyebrow at the open mouth of Horan. “You’ll end up drooling, Horan” said acid, and then laughing playfully flushing of the cheeks Horan.

“Uh, uh, your phone has not stopped ringing all night, Styles, do not know how you did not wake. There I could hear the guest room,” he picked up the phone on the table and threw it into Harry’s lap that would say something about having a sleep so heavy that it started to wake up to London to be bombed, but what came out was crap when he saw that he had 37 missed calls from home. “I did not answer, but I put it on silent. I, uh, I was afraid the noise will wake up” Horan blushed.

Harry just nodded in silent understanding and appreciation, and dialed the number of home while Horan rose and left the room.

John attended desperate and Harry had to assure him that was fine and had just forgotten to call hundreds of times, explaining that he had slept in the house of this friend. When Horan returned, holding the clothes seem dry and clean of Harry, the boy had just got off the phone with a sigh.

“His parents were worried?” he asked, holding the clothes to Harry, who took them down with a thank you.

 ”Nah, they are traveling. Butler who was desperate’.

 Horan raised eyebrows in Butler, but said nothing, just shook his head.

 ”Go take a shower. My mother said that soon the breakfast is ready”.

– x –

In the last class before exams in Chemistry, Cowell was in the midst of a review when Horan entered the lab. Cowell started talking and apparently would expel Horan in his room, but the boy said he had a note from the professor of music and showed it to the teacher. Very upset, after reviewing the note for several seconds, as if expecting to find anything to prove that he had not been written by the teacher, Cowell told Horan sit.

 The only vacant seat was in the back row, next to Harry.

Horan went to the bank, sitting up and glancing at Harry the corners of the eyes. Harry returned.

While Cowell replayed the most important topics for the exams, Horan bored sigh beside Harry, his face resting on a hand, elbow on the table. Harry watched from the corner of the eyes, only half paying attention to his godfather. Then out of nowhere, while the director of Tigers spoke of balancing equations, one hand wrapped Harry’s hand that was dropped next to his body.

Harry jumped up, which made Cowell look Zayn and strange to him. The teacher raised an eyebrow and asked “Is there a problem, Mr. Styles?” To which Harry replied “No, sir,” but the damage was done. During the rest of the class, Cowell was throwing to him and Horan inquiring glances and suspicious.

Harry did not. Horan’s hand was in his warm and soft, and it still shook the forward and backward a few times, which made Harry smile like a jerk in love.

– x –

Looking in the bathroom mirror, Harry combed his hair with his fingers and smiled at her reflection before leaving and returning to the room Horan. When he entered, Horan took his eyes off the laptop and smiled at him, closing the unit and rising. “Come on, the coffee is ready,” and began to descend the stairs, following Harry awkwardly behind him.

The closer they came to the kitchen, the scent of scrambled eggs and orange juice arrived at Harry’s nose. He realized how hungry he was when he entered the room bright and wide and saw a table spread with toast, pancakes, juices, coffee, bread, butter and various other things. Someone was sitting at the table, an open newspaper in front of the face, a brown hair visible over it.

Horan at the table in front of Harry’s father and remained standing uncomfortably in the doorway.

 ”Sit down, dear”

Maura Horan smiled at Harry, standing next to Horan, holding a frying pan with eggs about to be deposited on the plate of the child, an apron covering the front of your body.

Harry sat next to Horan. Horan father lowered his newspaper and looked at him with narrow eyes and suspects. Harry stared back.

“Honey, do not be unkind,” Mme. Horan said, slapping the back of the head while her husband took off his apron and sat beside him, who cried a sigh and rubbed the affected area. Horan laughed.

“But Maura, dear, he is  _a Styles._  He is the son of Styles and  _Tiger_  is one that neither Cowell.” sr. Horan said, almost dropping poison into words. Harry would reply that at least he was not an idiot Hawk, but Horan and his mother were faster.

“ _Dad_ ”

_“Dear”_

The two said in the same tone. Horan The three looked at each other for a few seconds and then burst into laughter. Harry almost smiled.

 ”Come on, Harry, dear, do not do the ceremony, can serve. I did not know what you liked, so I did a bit of everything, I hope you enjoy” Mrs. Horan said, smiling brightly. Harry helped himself to orange juice and pancakes.

“It’s fine, Mrs. Horan, thank you,” he said, smiling at the woman. Horan smiled at his side as if he wanted to cuddle in your head and say  _He is not beautiful?_  Horan father sent him a leering.

Harry ate everything, chatting politely with Mrs. Horan and answering the height of insults disguised Mr. Horan as he was good Slytherin. When the clock above the head of Horan father was nine o’clock and Mrs. Horan had already begun to collect the dishes, Harry turned to Horan.

“I must go”

Horan seemed tempted to say something, but just nodded in agreement. Harry felt strange, because he would not go, actually, but he could not stay. He took the phone from his pocket and asked the driver to pick you up, Horan telling you the address to his side.

 Horan went to fetch the book and the case of Harry, who spoke some more with Mme. Horan, Horan as his father muttered from behind the newspaper. When Horan returned, he said something about waiting outside the kitchen and dragged Harry.

– x –

Harry had decided to skip lunch to study a little more. He was almost alone in the library, only he and two fifth graders, who were very quiet. Harry was really focused on remaking the most difficult exercises in physics, and for good minutes he was not stopped until a female voice whisper close to him.

“Oh, Eleanor, do you think Niall okay?”

Harry soon pricked up his ears, recognizing the girl’s voice Tomlinson from behind a shelf of books at his side. Something had happened with Horan? Was he in the hospital wing?

“I do not think so, Charlotte,” said Calder’s voice, but she sounded calm, then Harry relaxed a little, because Calder would not sound calm if something serious had happened to Horan, it was so strange or so. Still, something was happening to Horan, for the two girls are discussing it.

“He’s riding so low these days, always sitting near the lake and looking at him as if he wanted to play there and drown,” Tomlinson sighed. “Niall can not swim, you know. He’s out there now, do not want to eat. Do you think he would play in the lake, Eleanor?”

“I do not know, Charlotte, but even if he is playing, no need to worry.” said Calder, dreamy and distant.

 Harry immediately gathered his things and kept them in his backpack. Not that he believed that Horan was playing, and he was almost sure that Horan knew rather swim, but it was always better to prevent.

As he walked away, Harry did not saw the two girls watching him or heard when Charlotte said “Yes!”, Raising his hand open to Eleanor beat. Eleanor laughed and knocked on the friend’s hand, smiling serenely. “I hope they resolve whatever it is that has happened between them. I can not stand to see the Niall so low, and he is so since the beginning of the school year,” said Charlotte, shaking his head. “Glad you are observant enough to notice that he was so because of Styles, Eleanor”

Eleanor just looked at the shelves full of books, still smiling as if everything was at peace in the world. “Oh, they will solve. But you know, even if Niall will not play on the lake, I might suggest that he do so.”

 Charlotte looked shocked for another girl for a second before sighing. “Oh, Eleanor”

– x –

Outside, the sun shone brightly as ever, even as the day before the world had not fallen into water. They sat on the step in front of the door and did not speak to the driver to get Harry.

He turned to Horan said “Thanks for everything, Horan. Thank your mum for the breakfast was delicious” and almost inclined to give him a kiss goodbye, but thought better of it at the last second. Horan also seemed trying to do something, but just nodded and watched Harry go.

– x –

When Harry arrived at the lake shore, there was no one anywhere. In a second of panic, he thought Horan was really thrown into the lake and drowned, because the section was deep, and there was no giant squid or sereiano to rescue him. Harry dropped the bag on the floor and was ready to jump into the lake when someone asked, “Harry?” behind him. Relief filled every pore of Harry, and he looked back, giving a face to face with Horan looking confused.

“Do you by chance going into the lake, Harry?” Horan frowned at him, looking him up and down. “From clothing and everything?”

Harry straightened his posture and answered in his best tone Tiger. “Of course not, Horan. Why would I want to get into the lake?” He raised an eyebrow. They could have turned to friends in the summer and Harry could even be in love with him, but it is difficult to get rid of old habits.

Horan just smiles, shaking his head.

“Forget it. Anyway, Charlotte and Eleanor asked me to meet them here, you want-” He stops in mid-sentence, frowning again and looking at the sky. Harry does the same, only to be hit by a drop in the middle of the forehead. Heavy drops of rain begin to fall around them, and Harry immediately bent down to pick up his backpack from the floor.

When he rises again, Horan reaches out and picks up Harry without hesitation, and they start running for the school grounds.

– x –

Day 31 August was windy and cold, making Harry wince in the coat he wore. He was leaning against a tree, the lake (the lake of them) forward, Horan with the guitar on the side. Horan strummed anything, like not even realize what he was doing, staring at any point. Harry knew what he was thinking, as had been thinking the same thing since he had left the house of Horan two weeks ago.

 ”It will again be business as usual, right? Starting tomorrow,” Horan said, his voice low and small.

Harry did not answer.

“I’m going to walk again with Louis and Liam pros and you’ll return your friends Tigers. Disputes and insults will continue, mainly because of football, and we will not be friends. Come on, Harry?”

Horan whispered it all, as if to say was too high to make come true, and hopeful blue eyes turned to Harry, who just shrugged. He also did not want that, do not want to have to pretend that he did not like Horan, because honestly, he was tired of pretending. He had spent six years pretending, and now they were on good terms, all that Harry wanted to continue, and maybe even go a little.

Horan sighed and said “Fuck it” and put the guitar down. The next moment he had both hands on the cheeks and lips of Harry in them, squeezing, squeezing. Harry’s eyes widened at the same time that his heart exploded in his chest, beating so fast that he was sure he could hear Horan. Horan licked at his bottom lip and soon Harry was recovered from the shock, involving Horan’s waist with his hands and kissing him as if it were the last thing he would do in life.

 Horan tasted like chocolate, but better. Horan was the best thing that Harry had already proved.

Harry’s brain seemed to have entered into short-circuit when they parted. His whole body trembled, his heart faster than ever, hands gripping the shirt Horan sweating, blood flowing too fast, and a feeling of happiness and a desire to cry so great that Harry thought he would die. Horan kissed her cheeks, nose, forehead, saying, hey,  _hey, okay, that’s okay, I’m with you,_ what did Harry lose controland their mouths together again, and again, and more one, until the two had swollen lips, wet and reds.

– x –

Horan did not lead them back to the school. Instead, he was followed to the edge of the forest property on which students can not enter until they chagarem George’s cabin, the caretaker. Horan goes around the cabin and leans against the back wall of her, bringing Harry to join them. Their uniforms are wet and her breasts together, feeling Harry Horan irregular breathing on her face and her belly filling up and emptying the air quickly. The roof of the cabin of George offered them a small awning that protected them from rain.

Out of nowhere, Horan began to laugh, and Harry felt more than saw, rising up the face and see Horan open mouth, through crooked teeth appearing as a laugh escapes her hot pink lips. Harry raised an eyebrow at him. Horan just laughed, gave him a kiss on the nose and said “No, love.” Harry blushed.

Horan looked at him for several seconds, just smiling. His round glasses were speckled with raindrops, but his blue eyes shining behind the lenses, as if Harry was the most wonderful thing in the universe. Harry smiled at him minimally, which Horan seemed to understand as a cue to move your arms around the waist and Harry join their mouths.

It was not the most romantic situation, there behind George’s hut, drenched with rain, but Harry did not care.

– x –

The sun was setting, the sky orange and red and rose above them as they walked toward the exit of the park, Harry with his hands in his pockets, Horan scratching his head, swinging his guitar on the cover on his back as he walked. When they arrived at the gate, Horan grabbed her wrist and pulled him into a kiss, his other hand up to caress his cheek, while Harry went to rest in the other hip. They did not care for those who might be passing by and watching the driver or if Harry could see the scene from inside the car. That would probably be the last kiss them, the last contact before going to school, and they would not care even if the Queen was watching.

The kiss lasted three minutes.

They allowed themselves to be loved for three minutes.

And everything, everything that Harry can think is _: “and in that moment, I swear we were infinite.’_

_Infinite infinite infinite…_

Horan looked at him for long moments, his thumb stroking his cheek, and Harry let himself soak in those blue- kaleidoscope eyes and get lost. Finally, with a sigh, Horan gave him a kiss on one cheek, murmured “See you tomorrow” and walked away.

Harry watched him go, the urge to cry growing inside him again, wanting to go after Horan and say something like I’m in love with you since I was eleven years old, or I can not stand fake, Horan, for favor, or Niall, Niall or embrace it and not release it anymore. He did nothing. He entered the car, leaned his head against the window and closed her eyes, touching her lips with the fingertips.

But Harry understands. His infinite ended when he entered the car.

– x –

They only really split up after ten or fifteen kissing, smiling at each other and breathing heavily. Horan kissed her cheek, Harry pulling the fringe of his face with his fingers. Gently, almost stopping.

“I missed you,” Horan said, softly, through the nose cold Harry’s neck. Harry shivered as his hot breath and said Uh-huh, but what it really meant was  _I also felt your fucking fault_.

“You punched in Warrington when he spoke ill of my mother,” Horan continued speaking, his forehead resting on the shoulder of Harry, who ran a hand through his hair, finding it surprisingly soft and cluttering it even more.

“She is a very sweet woman,” said Harry, in his best logical step, as if that resolved the issue.

Horan laughed in Harry, shaking him slightly.

“I know that is less than a month to finish school, but if you want, we can stop pretending that we still have something against each other and be, you know … friends” Harry whispered it, blushing as she spoke, feeling dummy time while hopefully.

Horan raised his head and stared into his eyes, before smiling and giving him a kiss, just pressing his lips on Harry.

“I like it,” he said, smiling, leaning his forehead against Harry and closing his eyes.

He began producing a rhythm with the throat, and a melodious sound that made Harry’s heart burn of happiness and desire. In the end, Horan opened his lips and sang  _Screw_   _this_   _shit, it’s you I want._


End file.
